


The Heart of a God

by sun_ray



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depression, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_ray/pseuds/sun_ray
Summary: Typical girl-in-thedas fic. You are a woman from Earth who has awoken in Dragon age Inquisition, and you finally have the opportunity to do things the right way. The only problem? You are scared shitless, and you can't exactly stop yourself from crushing on Solas-- or catching his suspicion.





	The Heart of a God

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, you guys, so please don't murder me or anything. But please feel free to give plenty of feedback. I'll need it! Enjoy!

You open your eyes to darkness.

Your mind still groggy from unconsciousness, you crack your eyes wider, ignoring the pain the action causes. The blackness above you clears into a dark brick ceiling. The walls surrounding you are the same, cracked stones paving the walls and splotched with unfamiliar stains. Something drips somewhere in the room.

You notice a faint trace of light in your peripheral vision, and you follow it, observing a thin ray of light from an open doorway cast horizontally along the floor. And interrupting that beam of light, bars.

Your eyes widen at the implications and you sit up abruptly, pain suddenly flaring in your head and your left hand. Chains rattle and echo throughout the chamber upon your movement, and only then do you discover you are chained to the wall.

Unfamiliar fabric clings to your dirty and sweaty skin, and the bindings on your hands chafe your wrists in a way that suggests that you are injured. Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, and your body feels as though it has been through the wringer.

The light from the doorway widens, and heavy footfalls approach. A guard in armor enters your cell and pulls you from the ground, ignoring your pained gasp, and roughly shoves you out and through the doorway. You pass through a series of stony, torchlit hallways until you enter another chamber, an interrogation room. You are shackled to the floor, left to sit on your knees. The guard leaves you alone in the room.

You do not know how much time you spend there in that position, but what seems like hours later, the door bursts open again, this time yielding two women in armor. One marches up to you and yanks your head up to face her furious gaze.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

She pulls back, pacing around you. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

You scramble to find words, put anything to thought. But your head is spinning at the familiarity of the woman’s face, her voice. But she has no patience for your silence.

She yanks your left hand up in front of your face. “Explain this.” Your hand flares a bright green, light illuminating the room, and a stinging pain lacing through your forearm. You gasp and squint through the pain, wincing. The woman lets go and you let your hand flop down.

After a moment of recovery, you manage to stutter out a response. “I-I… can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t!?”

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there!”

“You’re lying!” The woman growls, this time roughly grabbing the collar of your shirt. The second woman, having said nothing so far, pulls her back. “We need her, Cassandra.”

Your thoughts race at the name. Suddenly the face and name connect. But according to logic, this woman should not exist. Neither of them should.

They both look expectantly at you.

“I don’t understand what is happening.”

The second woman—Leliana, your mind supplies—approaches. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

You struggle to think of the last thing you saw. “I remember… running. Things chasing me. And then… a woman.”

“A woman?”

“She reached out to me… but then—” Your train of thought shatters as you realize what you have uttered. And it doesn’t seem to matter much, as that is where your recollection of the experience ends. Although you know you never lived through it with your own eyes, the memory is there, clear as day, as if it had been implanted into your brain. It leaves a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Cassandra turns to Leliana. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Leliana says nothing and retreats from the room. Cassandra turns back to you and undoes your shackles on the floor, leaving your wrists bound, and pulls you to your feet.

The question slips from you without your consent. “What _did_ happen?”

“It… will be easier to show you.”


End file.
